


Jack's Harem At Castle Rock (LOTF)

by All_Bark_No_Bite



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Bark_No_Bite/pseuds/All_Bark_No_Bite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has been experiencing strange urges since he became stranded on the island. The handsome image of Ralph continues to consume his mind and creates a burning desire within his chest. These feelings are foreign to him and he doesn't understand how to control his urges. His inability and temper cause him to take extreme measures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Taste of Fresh Meat

**Chapter 1 - The Taste of Fresh Meat**

It had been a week since Jack's tribe was established at Castle Rock and the lack of Ralph wasn't helping his painful condition. The tropical heat swept across Jack's shoulders and sent a bead of sweat to travel down his tanned back. The warmth of the air wasn't the only heat that bothered him, the quivering sensation between his thighs was driving him insane and he begged for the desire to cool down. Jack sighed in agitation and straightened himself on his chair of rocks, calling over his tribal partner, the ruthless Roger. He ordered the silent teenager to sharpen a stick at both ends; a quick hunting session should take his mind of the fair-haired boy of his dreams. Yes, the taste of fresh meat would surely do the trick. Noticing the bothered expression on the chief's face, Roger inquired, "Is it about Ralph again? What are you? Gay?"  
Jack's expression darkened as he glared at the boy that squatted before him, a pocketknife in his hand as he scraped against the bark of a stick, and smirked at his obedience despite his harsh and triggering words. Jack himself was unsure of this nagging feeling and was clearly in denial over being dependant on Ralph’s existence.  
"It's always about Ralph. The way he looks, the way he smells and the way he acts. You seriously need to-" Roger's rant was cut short when a knee jabbed him in the abdomen, sending him into the rock wall.  
Jack chuckled as he picked up the sharpened stick from the ground, pointing it at Roger's neck in an intimidating manner. He was sick of Roger always interfering with business between chiefs; he needed to know his proper place. Jack stabbed the end of the stick into Roger's shoulder, shoving the tip in only slightly, teasing Roger with the stinging pain. He continued to drag the bloodied tip across the boy's abdomen, scratching against the strangely pale skin. Roger gasped out a sound between a grunt and a throaty moan, causing Jack to widen his sapphire eyes at the unexpected sound. But soon after the animalistic mewl of pleasure was released, Roger regained his usual stoic composure. Jack smirked and shoved the wooden shaft deeper, carving a blooming crimson flower into the boy's body. The blood trickled across Roger's toned flesh, accompanied by his whines and gasps as the shaft entered deeply within his stomach. Jack's sinister smile widened as he knelt down, releasing a shaky breath against his partner's moist skin. He experimentally prodded the stab wound with his tongue, slowly easing it into the hole. The hot, metallic liquid tantalized his taste buds and he began to suck fiercely, earning a shocked grunt from Roger. The blood burned in his throat as he greedily gulped it down, abusing the flesh of Roger's shoulder in order for it to release more liquid. Jack withdrew the wooden shaft from Roger's abdomen, preparing himself for an even bloodier feast.  
"Please, Jack..." his voice was strained as he pleaded with his tormentor, "Make it hurt more, destroy me..."  
Roger's eyes were glazed with lust and pain as he reached towards the fiery orange hair of the chief. He gripped tightly onto the bleached strands and tugged Jack towards him, catching him into an intense lip lock. Jack gasped in shock, allowing Roger's tongue to enter into his warm cavern. The slick muscle explored the newly acclaimed territory, taking the opportunity of Jack's stunned state to slide against the dripping walls. Their tongues danced in a sensual salsa, Roger taking the lead masterfully as he forced their mouths to meld together. Roger pulled back to take a breath, causing Jack to growl and bite the other on the tongue. The blood instantly spurted out of the sliced muscle, which Jack instantly latched to, suckling contentedly as he devoured the crimson liquid. Roger whimpered and tried to struggle, but the tearing of his tongue forced him to remain still as he suffered.  
Soon, the spring of blood had dried and Jack was satisfied. For the time being that is. He peeled himself off the other and stretched his aching body, licking his lips at the sight of the ravaged individual that lay in a red streaked mess on the stone floor.  
"Clean up this mess, that's an order!" Jack growled as he left the safety of the overhanging rock, to check on the rest of his tribe, leaving Roger to shakily obey.


	2. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly-awakened desire for the taste of blood continues to infuriate and confuse Jack. He attempts to satisfy this blood-lust by organising a hunt.

**Chapter 2 – The Hunt**

A gang of several barely-adolescent boys stood before Jack. They each brandished a long, sharpened stick and were smeared with clay that painted crude patterns over their abdomens. It was early afternoon and the tribe barely had enough scraps of meat and rotting fruit to scavenge from and a hunt was necessary to sustain the tribe. It felt like an eternity since Jack had felt the smooth shaft of his spear and his lips curled into a faint smile, although he had used a similar one to stab Roger mere hours ago, it felt different knowing he was going to track down and kill his prey. The squad of hunters was unusually small and inexperienced this round. With the lack of Roger’s brutal abilities the group had to rely solely on their chief to find a pig in the wilderness.

Jack dashed into the undergrowth, his measly group of choirboys following, as their hunting expedition commenced. The forest was silent except for the rustling of ferns and light thumping of feet on the dirt as the children rushed past. It was humid and the soil released clouds of mist that speckled the boy’s bodies. The squad continued deeper into the rainforest until dense vines surrounded them.

Jack paused at the base of a palm tree and bent down to the ground, scanning for tracks. After a few minutes of crawling amongst the bushes he discovered a fresh indentation in the dirt. He smirked and softly stroked the print lovingly before turning to the other boys, who were squatting amongst the trees attempting to be useful.

“I found some tracks. Follow me and be quiet,” he commanded and the group of scrawny boys nodded and followed Jack obediently as he sprinted away. 

Jack could taste the adrenaline that surged through his body with every movement of his legs and his mind was filled with the thought of another kill. His senses were heightened as he heard every insect, felt each grain of dirt brush past his hardened soles and every trickle of sweat that ran down his freckled back. He grinned as the expanse of bright sky within his irises scanned the forest around him for any sign of movement. His state of pure ecstasy drove him wild. This was where he belonged.

While being totally entranced by the increasing feeling of excitement Jack failed to realise that he was separated from the rest of the boys. When he paused at a clearing, where he had found a pile of fresh pig droppings, he had discovered that the other hunters were out of sight. This fact barely fazed him as he continued to search for his prey. He followed the faint tracks towards a nearby explosion of ferns and tentatively peeked over, his breath hushed despite his booming heartbeat. 

As soon as the pink skin that was characteristic of a pig came into view he thrust out his spear and dug it into the floundering piece of flesh. A human-like squeal of pain soon deflated the elated grin on Jack’s face as he stared into the terrified eyes of his fellow hunter.

“Take it out! It hurts! Merridew, listen, it’s me, Robert! I’m not the pig!”

Robert’s ranting was fuelled by the absolute horror that he had just been stabbed in his tanned upper-thigh and was spouting blood that stained his worn shorts. His pleads fell onto deaf ears as Jack just stared at the wound, obviously disappointed at the lack of a bleeding, grunting pig flailing at his feet. When Robert noticed the lack of response, he leaned over to tug the stick from his flesh but was stopped by a jolt of pain, which shocked his arm to lay limply by his side, when Jack shoved the shaft in further. Streams of tears cascaded down the valleys of his cheeks as his fingers clawed at the dirt in an attempt to crawl away, but the spear that was embedded in his thigh forced him to remain by Jack’s side.

Jack tugged the stick out and flipped it in his hands, observing the blood that seeped into the canals of the crudely made weapon. He daintily slipped his tongue around the shaft and sucked at the blood that it had soaked up. A venereal moan echoed through his chest as he contentedly consumed the liquid. Robert took this as his chance to escape the crazed hunter and crawled up onto his knees.

“It seems like my prey is trying to escape. I guess I didn’t stab it hard enough.”

Jack grasped onto the edge of the boy’s beige shorts and clamped his fingers on the bony hip. Without a second thought, he slammed the stained spear into his victim’s rear, teasingly twisting it and digging it deeper like he was fastening a screw. Robert howled in pain as the wooden shaft dug deeper into his anus, slicing the fragile skin and blotching his faded shorts with budding flowers of crimson. The skin of his hole was raw and dry as the spear dug deeper, piercing at the sensitive within him. The wooden weapon gyrated within the hole and continued to tear the skin of his ass open.

Jack began to pull the shaft out, only to thrust it in deeper, earning a torrent of screams and whimpers and tears until the next sudden movement. He found a sort of joy in hearing the boy cry for mercy and the squeals that rang in his ears were oddly satisfying. But only after a dozen thrusts he would no longer receive the rewarding noise of his prey’s shrieks but merely a strained whine. 

“If the other hunters haven’t managed a kill then you will be our feast for tonight,” Jack warned as he withdrew the soiled spear, wiping it on a adjacent leaf and leaving Robert to slowly pick himself from the ground and follow clumsily as his behind still throbbed and trickled blood.


	3. The Fire Pit

**Chapter 3 – The Fire Pit**

The taste of blood still tingled in Jack's throat late into the evening. The sharp aftertaste was addicting and he desired more, Ralph couldn't have been further in his mind compared to his crimson-soaked mistress of lust. He had organized a feast of pig meat and was listening to the erratic chatter of his followers as he spread coloured clay across his face. Like the diva he was, it had to be a perfect appearance.

The moon illuminated Castle Rock, casting elongated shadows on the cliff walls as the savages danced. The smoke from the grand fire soared into the sky, twirling in the flickering light before it disappeared into the night.  
Jack sat beside the fire, on a rock that became smooth due to excessive sitting and pondering about Ralph and stared at the pig carcass that hung awkwardly on the spit. Maurice was in charge of tending to the meat and he was lazily turning the pig flesh over the fire. The golden skin of their meal was glowing and drops of fat and oil slowly dripped off and were engulfed by the hungry flames below. 

“How long does it take to cook this thing? Hurry up!” 

Jack was becoming impatient, the initial ecstasy of the hunt had begun to wear off and his skin shivered with the urge to taste flesh. His fingers trembled and he was becoming restless. The fact that he couldn’t resist these desires pissed him off to no end. He felt like he had no control. No power. He felt weak to his body’s impulses. 

“Dammit!”

Jack’s outburst startled the circle of dancing children around him, who froze and stared at their leader who was standing, head lowered and mouth held in a scowl. He opened his clenched fist and stared at his calloused fingers, covered in grime and dried blood. Jack slowly raised his head; his eyes reflected the raging ocean as he stared lifelessly at Maurice. The frustration that was bubbling within his eyes exploded in frenzy as he pushed Maurice into the fire. He tumbled over the cooking pig carcass, the flames licked at his body and the burning fat bubbled his skin. Maurice screamed in agony and floundered through the pile of firewood, rolling upon the ground in an attempt to stop the pain. He clawed at his bleeding sides and began crying uncontrollably, covering the ground with his blood and tears. 

Jack slowly leaned down and stroked Maurice’s face, where a patch of skin began peeling off and revealed the tender flesh of his cheek. The ginger comfortably straddled the younger boy who bawled beneath him and smiled in relief. He licked at his bleeding cheek and secured a scrap of skin between his teeth, slowly tearing it from his face. Maurice screamed in agony and weakly tried to punch him away, his burnt fingers leaving streaks of charcoal across his attacker’s chest. Jack growled and swung his head back, ripping the remaining strip of cracking skin off the boys face. A collection of gasps brought Jack back to his senses as he sat up and stared at the tribe-members that stared in horror. He spat out the patch of skin and picked up a chunk of blackened wood and tossed it at the closest child, who shrieked and ducked for cover.

“Go away!” he barked as he glared at the circle of figures around him, who were merely shadows in the fading light of the embers left in the pit. 

No one dared to confront their leader and they scattered at his command. Jack turned back to the whimpering boy below him and smirked, slowly stroking his bloodstained fingers across the boy’s forehead, trailing it down his exposed cheek and down his abdomen. His hand lingered at the boy’s crotch as he suddenly clamped his fingers down on the thin material of his shorts, tightly squeezing at twisting it, savouring the pained mewls and gasps which vibrated through the cool twilight air. 

Jack chuckled and released his hold on the now hardening member. He peeled himself off the younger boy and grasped a long charred stick from the destroyed fire pit beside him. 

“Come on, get up!”

A weary gasp of pain left the boys lips as the stick was whacked against his thigh harshly and he clumsily crawled onto his knees. Jack tapped the stick across the boy’s side, causing his back to tremor in agony and stare up at his aggressor, his eyes pleading for mercy.

“Please… stop!”

The voice was barely above a whisper but the action caused a trickle of blood to leap from his throat and dapple the ground. The metallic scent drove Jack wild as he resumed beating the boy with the stick. Maurice’s screams and trembling limbs only encouraged Jack to hit harder and faster. He only paused when his victim’s body stopped moving.

“It hurts…”

The whimper that melted from his bruised lips was pitiful as he attempted to turn his head towards his attacker. After that single statement, he lay limp on the cold surface of Castle Rock and didn’t respond to the remaining jabs into his flesh. Jack growled and kicked him to his side only to discover that he would slam his face into the ground and provided no resistance. 

“Fuck this shit.”

Jack sighed. He was slightly disappointed that his fun had to end so soon, with no struggle at all, it wasn’t as exciting or satisfying as he had hoped. His victim also happened to be one of the bigger boys who was his main supporter and was useful during hunts and with one less authoritive figure it would be difficult to keep the annoying children out of his way. 

Jack leaned down and stroked Maurice’s brittle and burnt hair and stared into his glazed eyes. With a frown, he began to drag the body towards the bunch of barely burning lumps of wood and inelegantly tossed it into the middle of the pile, allowing the remaining flames to lick at the beaten and bruised body.


End file.
